


Han, The Poet

by leiamoody



Series: This Strange Couple [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Poetry, Gen, Han Solo Lives, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiamoody/pseuds/leiamoody
Summary: Han attempts to write a poem for Leia.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fluff piece written about ten years ago for a prompt challenge. This fic is not canon, but is set within my AU GFFA in 6 ABY, when Han and Leia are happily married and in no danger of having a Dark Side child or separating due to said Dark Side child.

_"The suns do not shine so brightly as the lights in your eyes..."_

Han frowned. Where in the hells did he come up with that line? And why did he decide on the oh-so-brilliant idea of trying to write a poem for Leia? Oh yeah...because he had wanted to try and impress her by doing something a little different for their first wedding anniversary. Sure, the minene aqua crystal and Corusca stone necklace and three dozen Alderaani sky lilies had been very appreciated. Why did he think he had to go and do something stupid like poetry?

He was sitting in front of the window, with a datapad in his lap. On the little greel wood table beside the overstuffed armchair stood a half-consumed bottle of Srigillian firewater, the cheapest plonk to come out of the not-so-distinguished Srigillis Major breweries. Not the best stuff to have for liquid inspiration when it came to summoning the literary spirits. No, he needed something stronger…like Corellian rum, or Mercuro triple blend whiskey. Okay, maybe not that stuff. Couple swallows of that, and the only thing he might compose would be a pornographic space shanty..

Writing a poem for a princess required more attention, more effort. And it definitely demanded better liquor than something on sale for a credit fifty at the corner liquor store. But he'd been in a hurry, because he had some vague images in his head of what he wanted to write about. Stuff that popped up every so often from his unconscious when he'd been doing something else. Little things that reminded him of Leia. Weird things, like a certain way the light looked coming in from a window that looked exactly the way it did when they were on Aunista, during their first vacation together. The last morning in the bungalow...he was awake before sunrise, and had been standing out on the balcony, watching the moon fade away slowly against the pale purple background of the oncoming dawn. She had come out to join him just as the sun crept up from the horizon. She was wearing one of his shirts, and something about that element combined with the way the early sunlight cast across her face burned itself into his memory. Crazy, maybe. But it was a damned fine image to pop up every so often...along with the other images of Leia that floated through his thoughts, or jumped up and demanded immediate attention.

But that kind of stuff was too personal. He didn't know how anyone could actually put that stuff down in datatext. That wasn't something you wrote about. It stayed in your head, deep inside, where nobody but yourself could get to it.

He picked up the datapad, and stared down at the five lines he'd managed to force out over the last two hours. They weren't great. Hell, they weren't even bad enough to be funny. They were just...well, the whole idea of him trying to write what he felt for her was wrong. He wasn't a writer, and he wasn't a guy who wore anything on his sleeve but engine grease when he was working on the Falcon.

Everything he felt stayed inside. But when he had to, he could show whatever he felt. With Leia, it was too easy. She brought feelings out of him that he never knew existed. Or had thought were long gone, anyway. He couldn't help it. Even if he wanted to. Which he didn't.

Han looked at the datapad again. Five lines of useless effort. No point in continuing. He pressed the "delete" button, and watched the characters fade away slowly, until the screen was empty.

So he'd wasted a couple of hours trying to attempt something that he shouldn't have done in the first place. No big deal. At least that time had given him a better idea than writing a poem.

If he left now, he could hop in the speeder and head over to Leia's office, and surprise her when she got back from that meeting. Yeah, that was good. Action along with some words.


End file.
